Beauty of Destruction
by A'isha Ishtar
Summary: You can say you're going to cut the ties; say you'll have nothing more to do with them. Take your companions, and vow to never return. But parting ways isn't always so easy, sometimes all it does is make things worse. Scar/OC main, Kimblee/OC on the side
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer TIMEZ: Don't own FMA. Technically I don't even own the beginning of this plot.**

**My friend helped me in starting this one. I wanted a new story for Scar and Kimblee other than the ones I was already writing that I kind of lost interest in, and he took pity on me. Because we were bored in math class, actually.**

**So, the idea for this and Mari and Lakita's names belong to him. And the first part of the plot before Kimblee comes in, also. But the rest is mine; he said I got to decide how Mari would come in.**

**And also, because I am a nerd, I am making up the entire Ishvalan language FROM SCRATCH. This story will involve a lot of Ishvalan language and culture, most of which I create. I even am writing an Ishvalan to English dictionary... *kicks herself for nerdiness* But it's fun. You'll find translations of my Ishvalan words in the author's note at the end.**

**I really hope you enjoy, everyone!**

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><p>There was no way he was going to win this fight; Scar knew that much. It wasn't that he was a coward, or unsure in his abilities. He just knew his limits, and at the moment he was pressing his luck. Testing one's own limits, "pushing the envelope", so to speak, could sometimes be beneficial and empowering... but this was neither the time nor place.<p>

He had been fighting against Edward and Alphonse Elric, and it had gotten far too intense. Edward had been transmuting weapons left and right, all while Alphonse tried to get a hit in. It was a different sort of madness he'd never seen before, and a battle would only end in disaster for both sides.

So he had fled the scene, dodging every violent and desperate blow they threw his way. He managed to escape them, leaving quick false clues to deter them from where he was headed. He ducked and hid behind walls, at last coming to an alley that practically promised safety. He thudded against the wall, his chest rising and falling dramatically as his breathing became labored. As soon as he caught his breath he'd be off...

Suddenly a small fire rose up next to his foot, and he was quick to leap away from it. "The hell..." He stayed alert and on guard, ready for the next sign of danger.

A man he recognized as one of the head alchemists, Roy Mustang, appeared in front of im, snapping his fingers wildly and calling forth his flames. They came from virtually every direction imaginable, and Scar was busy looking for an exit, ignoring the burns he was receiving. He had to get out of here...

Out of nowhere came a shout. "_Arrake_!" a female voice cried, barely able to be heard over the conflagration's crackles. "_Plara, arrake_!"

Scar had to blink a few times, shake his head to make sure he was really hearing this. Was that Ishvalan? She was telling someone (them, probably) to stop... please, stop...

The body belonging to the voice entered the fray, and Scar stared at her. It was apparent that she had at least some Ishvalan in her. She had tanned skin, so that the fires reflected off of it, and cascades of vanilla hair fell straight halfway down her back. It looked like her eyes, however, were a greenish color, almost clashing with the rest of her appearance.

She stumbled forward, almost tripping over the legs of her jeans, and fell over onto her knees. "_Omnes di Ishvala, arrake_!" she yelled, flailing forward and cracking her cheek off the concrete. She pushed herself up again and continued to scream angrily at them. "_Ertasi, Citari, anas-san mas anate_?"**  
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Scar dodged more flames and called back to the girl. "_Vaté, vaté_!" He ran in a sort of zigzag, aiming to get away from Mustang and his blasted fires. "Get out of here!"

She looked up and her eyes met his. "_Niyu_!" she cried, even as she collapsed several seconds later. "_Mea refan_!"

She was suddenly hit with a rouge lick of flame, and she shrieked as it hit the back of her leg, burning a hole through her jeans. She clawed at the ground, and Scar could hear her breathing speed up, as though she was crying. "_A-Adei-mea_! _Plara_!"

Unable to ignore her any longer, Scar ran forward and picked her up in the style a groom would carry his bride. He got more burns by doing this, but he couldn't just leave her here. If he escaped, she was coming with him whether she liked it or not. He wouldn't allow an innocent woman, especially Ishvalan, to die when he easily could have done something. Her legs dangled under his arm as he raced in the opposite direction, struggling to get away from Mustang. He had to get away, to save both of their lives.

At last he found an adequate shelter. It was the overhang of a small, locked, obviously abandoned apartment building. It was dark and hardly accommodated the both of them, but he stayed there and tried to catch his breath.

Daring to peek around the corner, he saw that Mustang and the Elric brothers were rushing past this alley. "He's down here!" Mustang yelled. "I saw him go this way!"

Scar let out a sigh of relief, allowing himself to sink down onto the cold pavement of what was once some family's doorstep. He still held the girl in his arms, and very carefully set her down beside him, her feet and legs still in his lap. They were safe, at least for now.

He felt her hand in his, and when he looked down she was staring at him. She smiled, giving his hand a weak squeeze, and giggled very softly. "_Denkaas, garei_," she whispered, before closing her eyes and practically passing out right there.

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><p>He couldn't quite remember the last time he had seen the sun; but Kimblee knew it was the ultimate expression of art and beauty. A fiery gold sphere, just waiting for someone to help it combust. Oh how he wished he could be that person... but who ever heard of a man going up into space? Preposterous, really, that idea would never catch on.<p>

He ran a hand through his hair and then rubbed at his chin, trying to remember the last time he'd shaved. It wasn't the last time they'd let him out for a shower... he hadn't for a while, he could tell by the stubble starting to grow. It pricked his fingers lightly, and he dropped his hand with a sigh. When was his next assigned date to get out and shower? He didn't remember...

"Must you really keep me locked up every minute of the day?" he spoke up, sounding as whiny as he could bear to sound. He found whiny people annoying, so it was hard for him to muster up _that_ act. "Perhaps I'd like to take a nice, pleasant stroll in the park... listen to the birds, meet a beautiful woman..."

"Please," the guard scoffed. "You'd blow her up before you even got to first base, Kimblee. And even if you did restrain yourself, the minute she agreed to bang you she'd be a goner. Now shut the hell up. Your new guard should be coming any minute now, and then I'll be out of here for good."

Kimblee arched an eyebrow, slightly surprised by this news. Nobody had told him he'd be getting a new guard. "No one informed _me_ of this, and I'm the prisoner! Now doesn't that seem wrong? I feel so out of the loop."

"Keep your trap shut, I think he's coming."

Kimblee pushed himself up off his bench, and ventured over to the glass door. He didn't get far because of the chains, but he'd take what he could get. He could barely see out there - glass had collected a fair amount of dust. He put his ear as close as he dared, and he could hear another voice talking to his now-former guard. But this voice didn't sound like a man...

At last, the talking ceased and a female figure stepped up to the glass, a smirk on her face. Her hair was a light reddish, while her eyes were blue, and she sported a military uniform. She raised a gloved hand and wiggled her fingers in an admittedly awkward wave. "Afternoon, Zolf J. Kimblee. It's such a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

He nodded his head just slightly. "So, they let someone like _you_ watch over _me_?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Hello, do you not have a mirror?" He gestured to her chest and hips before letting out a low whistle. "You're a... a..."

"A woman?"

He shrugged. "Actually, I was gonna say you're a _babe_. But woman works too."

She glared at him. "Boy, if there weren't a wall of glass between us, Kimblee..."

"Which brings me to my next inquiry, dear. May I have the pleasure of knowing who I am currently speaking with?"

"Pfft." She held up two fingers, then pointed them at herself. "Mari Dailyn Benoit. Been in the military for five years, since I was twenty."

"Very interesting. And have you heard what my powers are? I am the famed Crimson Alchemist, after all." Mentally puffing out his chest, he gave her a smirk to rival her own.

She rolled her eyes. "Of course I have, and I'm not worried."

"You're not worried that I'm going to make you into fireworks? Because believe me, I do think you'd make such a lovely display..."

"Shove it, Kimblee. I'm not scared of you because of my _own_ talents."

"Oh?" He was definitely not impressed. Whatever her ability was, it was no match for turning her into a bomb. "And what are they?"

"Glad you asked." She whipped out her silver pocket watch. "I am known as the Absorbing Alchemist. My body is fully equipped to withstand, absorb, and completely nullify the effects of any combustion that uses sulfur as a base." She tossed her shoulder-length hair, the smirk only intensifying. "You won't be blowing me up anytime soon, m'love."

His golden eyes narrowed as he glared at her. Damn. It. _All_.

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><p><strong>Ishvalan to English TRANSLATIONS:<strong>

**_Arrake_ = stop**

**_Plara_ = please**

**_Omnes di Ishvala_ = name of Ishvala (sort of like "in the name of Ishvala")**

**_Ertasi_ = Ishvalan (literally "Earthen" as Ishvalans view their city as the center of the Earth)**

**_Citari_ = Amestrian (literally "city-dweller", as this is what the Ishvalans consider Amestrians)**

**_Anas-san mas anate?_ = Have you no shame?**

**_Vaté_ = go/leave (command form)**

**_Niyu_ = no (as opposed to yes)**

**_Mea refan_ = I refuse (using feminine _mea_ as opposed to masculine _mee_)**

**_Adei-mea_ = Help me**

**_Denkaas_ = thank you**

**_Garei_ = stranger (someone you don't know, as opposed to _gerei_, the word used in reference of foreigners)**

**Keep in mind that in creating Ishvalan, I'm drawing heavily from Japanese, English, and Arabic/Egyptian for the words, and French for verb conjugations. Suggestions for words would be welcome if you'd like!  
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**THANK YOU GUYS FOR READING AND PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW. Tell me if I'm keeping Scar and Kimblee in character. And I'd like to know what you think of the plot so far!**

**Thank you! ^^  
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	2. Chapter 2

**WOO HOO HOOOOO!**

**OK since it's not letting me reply to reviews for some odd, unfathomable reason, I shall just reply here, in the beginning author's note.**

**Cap'nHoozits: OMG. *le gasp* YOU'RE the one who wrote "Sons of the Desert". FTW I was sorta kinda halfway through reading that! Why did I stop? *fangasm* Dude you have NO idea how happy it made me to receive such an awesome review from an accomplished author such as you. I mean 167 reviews so far? My most popular hasn't even reached a hundred yet. I have SOOO much respect for you. *waves little Scar flag* And aha, yes you're right. It IS based more on the 2003 one because that's the one I like best. However, Kimblee is more based upon Brotherhood. Why? ... Because I like his Smooth Criminal suit. XD *smacks self* And AHAHAHA thank you. I've been trying to make it seem accurate and... desert-y. *goes to read Sons of the Desert again***

**thegriffin88: GRIFFIN-CHAAAAAAN! *epic flying tackle* Me lurv you! Waaaaaai, I read part of your Kimblee story while I was poking around for fics that involved him being sick... *reads that chapter OVER AND OVER* Dude, talk about how it's crack to YOU? It is crack to me as well. Kimblee is super sweet. I liked your review, it was super funny and made me grin when I realized you'd commented. *super huggles* And don't worry, I promise as soon as I get off my FMA/Bleach kick, more Find Your Love is IMMINENT. ^^**

**Hope you guys like! Ishvalan translations found in the author's note at the bottom. ^^**

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><p>Scar hadn't meant to fall asleep alongside the woman, but apparently he'd been just as tired as she was. He immediately was concerned about their safety when he awoke, but he calmed down a little when he realized they were in the same place. He sat up, wincing slightly from the burns he'd gotten. It was then that he noticed that her legs were still in his lap... and that she was awake too.<p>

She was busy rolling up the legs of her jeans to reveal the injuries she'd sustained. She seemed to feel his eyes on her, because she paused and looked over at him. She shot him a demure smile, pushing her bangs back without the need of her hands. "_Hailé Ishvala! Ban maraya, garei_," she said cheerfully, moving her legs just so that her foot rested on his leg.

Scar scoffed, rubbing the back of his head. He wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, especially in the position and situation they were in. "Yeah, good morning," he muttered almost sarcastically, all at once feeling the sting of the burns on his flesh. He held back any comment of how painful it was because the truth was, he'd been through worse. Compared to everything he'd been through, this was like a blessing. When he noticed her staring at him, her head cocked to one side, he decided that maybe she couldn't understand Amestrian; she looked confused. "Ah... _ban maraya, adai_." He didn't feel very practiced, even a little uncouth in his native language, as he hadn't had much reason to speak it here. He wondered if he'd said that right, as she had.

She smiled again, then poked him in the stomach with her other foot. "_Ha eta sao, mino_?"

He refused to let the blush rise in his face as he realized that word - "_mino_". Cutie... he nearly couldn't believe she'd just called him that. "_Mee et_... um... _sincaré_." Well, it was the only word he could think of to sum it up. If he simply stated his name, she wouldn't know if he was ally or enemy. At this this way she'd be reassured that he wasn't going to hurt her.

She giggled, covering her mouth, then gestured with her hands, making a sweeping kind of motion back and forth. "_Niyu, niyu... mea mendé, wek-etu saon omnes_?"

Oh. So she _did_ want his name then. Whoops. He shrugged, mouth twitching a little. "Scar."

"_Saakre_?" She blinked a few times. "_Etu-es dare do_..." She reached over and gently ran her first two fingers over the mark on his face, a flutter of a touch between his eyes. "_Cise_?"

He gently but swiftly grabbed her wrist, then gave a short nod. "_Aya_."

She nodded in return. "_Warase, warase_..." She looked at him, then smiled again, saying nothing more than that.

He released her wrist then, as a sign of slight restlessness, he pulled on the sleeves of his jacket - what parts weren't singed all to hell anyway - and blew his bangs up. "_Sile, sae eta secrei_."

She grinned, playing with a strand of her silver hair. "_Denkaas, garei... mea mend, Saakre_."

He stared at her for a moment as she began to roll up her pant leg again. "I... _wek-etu saen omnes, Ashari_?"

She looked up and stopped her work once again, focusing her attention totally on him. "_Mek omnes etu Lakita_."

So she was referred to by only one name as well? That was interesting. "_Mas teromnes_?" he asked. "_Is omnes del saen fama_?"

A sudden kind of sadness hit her emerald eyes. It almost looked as if she were going to cry for a moment. But finally she did speak. "_Niyu_. _Solo Lakita_." She didn't cry, but her voice trembled and wobbled as though she were on the verge of it.

He had to wonder. Did she really have no last name? Or could she not remember it? Perhaps she'd hit her head. Or maybe... she just preferred not to be reminded of it. Of the family who had probably died in the war, and the life she had once had in Ishval.

He looked down at her petite foot in his lap. "_Warase_," he answered simply with a barely perceptible nod. "_Warase_."

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><p>Staring.<p>

That's what he'd spent the last hour doing; staring at her, this Mari woman. There wasn't much else for him to do, and she was pretty enough, so why not? He assumed if she knew then she'd be flattered by it. Nothing made a woman feel appreciated better than being told she was beautiful.

She was facing away from him... well, sort of. He had a bit of what would be called a three-fourths view. He could see her chest, but just barely, and he could see more of her back than he could see of her front. He wondered what she'd do or say if he just randomly called out, _Hey, nice ass!_ But that wasn't what he was really looking at. He wasn't looking at her breasts, even. He considered himself above that, disregarding the standards of beauty set for women by the pigs that made up society. He was actually looking at her face, or what he could see of it anyway.

Her hair framed her face quite nicely, with some longer pieces hanging in front of her ears and resting on her shoulders. Her bangs were innocently cut, short so that they barely even reached her eyebrows. Her hair was an artistic sort of reddish-pinkish color... what some might call shades of strawberry. Hmm, yes, that was the perfect description. It was very fine, too, and a reasonable length for a woman in the military; she was just pushing it, though, and if it grew any longer then she would probably be required to cut it.

And then there were her eyes. A lovely light blue, sky blue in fact. They didn't sparkle or glitter like some other girls' eyes did; the only shining they did was when the light and shadows played around them. Her eyelashes weren't thin or thick; but she probably had mascara on, so they may have been rather scarce without it.

Her lips looked severely, achingly soft; painted with a dim red that almost matched her hair, they were just begging to be touched. It was almost unfair, like she was teasing him. She was out there; he was in here. And even if he _were_ out of this blasted cell... _he couldn't touch her_. He might be able to hold her in his arms, caress her cheek, run a finger over those lips... but he still couldn't _touch_ her.

He supposed his last guard had probably been right. If he had ever fallen in love with a woman, the ultimate gesture of affection toward her would be turning her into a work of art. An explosion. It would be as beautiful as she was... but alas, it apparently wasn't meant to be because he couldn't make _her_ go _BOOM_. How he wished... but that troublesome power of hers...

"Oh Ms. Benoit, do excuse me," he called in as soft a voice he could manage while still being heard. "But I was so very curious about... how exactly your powers work. Would you mind filling me in?"

She turned back to him, giving him a slight glare. "Now, what makes you think I'm going to tell you, love?" She placed a hand on her hip, shifting her weight to one side. This made her miniskirt hike up a bit on one side, but being the gentleman he was Kimblee chose to ignore it. "So you can exploit my weaknesses? Nice try, Kimblee, but technically my abilities have no weakness. I suppose the only weakness _might_ be that I do not leave this base."

A raven eyebrow arched in contemplation of her words. "Oh, may I ask why you stay here all the time?"

"I..." She looked conflicted, but at last sighed. "I guess you can't really do anything while you're in there." She brushed one long section of her hair back behind her shoulder. "There are two reasons. One, I hate apartments and don't have enough money for my own house, so I live in the barracks. And two, I'm not exactly... suited for combat purposes."

He leaned forward, cupping his chin in his hand and resting his elbow on his knee. He didn't even have to fake looking intrigued. "Do go on."

She rolled her eyes. "I have the feeling you're not really interested. I'd just bore you."

"Oh no, on the contrary. I'm very fascinated. Besides, I do like watching your mouth move. You get so... _passionate_ when you speak. I like passionate. It's one of those qualities that makes someone a little less worthless."

A rosy tint stained her cheeks for a moment, but it was gone so quickly that

Kimblee decided it must have been his imagination. "Look, there's no way you can blow me or anyone else to Kingdom Come while I'm around, so if you're trying to find a loophole..."

"No, dear, not at _all_." He sat straighter, tossing his ponytail so that it rested over his shoulder and dangled in front of his chest. "I would never think of such a thing. Only a cruel fellow would do something like that."

"And _how_ long have you been behind this glass, love?"

"Very well, point taken. But you know, cruel men usually don't have a love of art. That's all I've been doing, practicing my aesthetics."

"Normal men don't go around blowing people up and calling it a form of art, Kimblee."

"That's because they don't understand."

"Understand what? Psychosis?"

"My dear, this conversation would be going so much more swimmingly if you would just tell me the truth."

"Fine, if that's how you're going to be!" She crossed her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts together; once again, Kimblee just focused on her face. "My alchemy allows me to absorb any explosions, you got that, right?"

"Yes, that much I understand. But exactly _how_?"

"How. Well... I can do it from both far range and close range. Because I have a transmutation circle tattooed on each of my fingers, I simply press my fingers together and point at the target. It draws the explosive sulfur to me, preventing the explosion from taking place."

"Ah, I see. So that's how you do it from far away. Is there a different way that you do it if you're close to the person, or is it pretty much the same thing? That would be quite boring indeed, if it didn't differ at all..."

"Well, it's a bit different. First of all, the long range doesn't have to be someone like you performing your alchemy. It can be a natural occurrence that I stop. In fact, the close range works better for you. I simply press my hand to yours, and the sulfur you were planning to use passes from your system into mine and is dissolved, stopping the blast."

"Oh my, extremely interesting indeed." Kimblee took note of how little she moved as she spoke. Practically the only thing that made motions was her mouth; it seemed as if she had little experience incorporating body language into her speech. She also hadn't called him "love" while she was talking about her abilities. He decided to fiddle with the end of his ponytail, then a thought came to him. "Oh Ms. Benoit, when do I get out?"

And just like that, she became distant and sarcastic again. She whirled back around, clicking her heels, and stood straight as an arrow. "When hell becomes an ice rink, love, I'll be sure to let you know."

**Hailé Ishvala! = Hail Ishvala!**

**Ban maraya, garei = Good morning, stranger**

**Adai = too/as well**

**Ha etu sao? = How are you? ("sao" is masculine form)**

**Mino = cutie ("mina" is female form)**

**Mee et sincaré = I am a friend (literally "I am sincere")**

**Niyu = no**

**Mea mendé = I meant**

**Wek-etu saon omnes? = What is your name?/What's your name?**

**Saakre = scar (so technically she is calling him Scar)**

**Etu-es dare do... cise? = Is it because of.../due to... this?**

**Aya = yes**

**Warase = I see/I understand**

**Sile = well**

**Sae eta secrei = You are safe (literally "You are secret")**

**Denkaas, garei... mea mend, Saakre = Thank you, stranger... I mean, Scar**

**Ashari = Miss/Ms. (equivalent of French "Mademoiselle" or Spanish "Senorita")**

**Mek omnes etu... = My name is...**

**Lakita = quiet night/silent night (I use the former)**

**Mas teromnes? = No last name?/surname?**

**Is omnes del saen fama? = Your family name? (literally "The name of your family")**

**Solo Lakita = Only Lakita/Just Lakita (suggesting that she has no last name)**

**THANK YOU FOR READING BUT IF YOU READ/FAVE/ALERT, PLEASE REVIEW. If you do, you're actually helping me LIVE. How cool is that? XD**

**As always, suggestions as to Ishvalan words and now, slices of the plot, are welcomed. I honestly am not quite sure where this is going to go, so... I'm open as far as plot and Ishvalan go. THANK YOU ALL! ^^  
><strong>


	3. Chapter 3

Lakita just sat there for a minute, and Scar watched her. But she didn't do anything at the moment; she just sat there, staring off into the distance. Could she see something he couldn't? "Lakita," he said softly, with a gentle push to her shoulder. "_Eta-sae banna_?" He was a little worried about her; maybe she really _had_ hit her head and needed medical attention. How on Earth was he going to accomplish _that_, if she needed it?

Instantly her gaze snapped back over to him, as soon as he touched her. She smiled, shaking her head slightly. She rolled up the leg of her jeans to reveal the nasty burn she'd gotten. "_Mea... Mea an mora asi_," she answered, rather sheepishly, like she was afraid of being punished. Her small finger traced around the burn; her skin was completely singed, charred to black and some even totally burned off.

He reached over to touch it. "_Asi, mee ettra adran sae_."

She shook her head, slowly pulling her leg away. "_Niyu, niyu_..." She reached into one of her jean pockets, pulled out a glove with a transmutation circle on it, and put it on her hand. She then placed the gloved hand on her wound, took a deep breath, and a sudden blue glow surrounded her palm. He heard her humming while doing this, as if to keep herself focused. "_Recara_?" she grinned.

His eyes widened and he backed up from her a bit. "_Alchema_?" he asked viciously, nearly snarling at her.

She made that motion again, waving her hands back and forth. "_Niyu, niyu, Saakre... es etu alkahestra_."

He returned to his original position, a little less repulsed. "_Sae eta alkaheste_?"

She nodded. "_Mea casa rihar suma blesa_."

He blinked a few times. "_Suma... blesa_?" He knew alkahestry could take care of small cuts and minor illnesses, but he'd never heard of anyone who could heal _anything_.

A pastel pink flooded her tan cheeks as she looked down, almost studying the repaired flesh of her leg. "_Aya, suma rureh adai_." She scratched her head, grinning a little as she looked at him. "_Sile... mata suma-cit_."

Scar nodded. He should have known, there was a limitation to what she could do. "_Asu etu sum-cit sae sas casa rihara_?"

"_Lifari_..." She swallowed, as if she were afraid to say it. "_Lifari spirati_."

Both his eyebrows raised in genuine surprise; he slipped back into Amestrian by mistake. "Human souls?"

"You know, the..." She lower her voice, looking to see if anyone was around, and he was mildly shocked that she was no longer speaking Ishvalan. "The human transmutations. I cannot change them, to bring back the souls that have already flown to heaven or dropped to the hell. Once they are gone they are gone forever."

He gave her a look; a disappointed, stern look. "You can speak Amestrian?"

She blushed again and hurriedly pointed her gaze down to her lap. "I, uhm... y-yes."

"Why didn't you tell me earlier, when I was speaking it?"

The blush deepened, and she wrung her hands in nervousness. "P-Please forgive me, _Saakre_... I was still unsure if I could trust you. Normally I trust Ishvalans, all them, but you seem to be... muchly different. And some of the Amestrian, it is hard for me to form in my mind..."

He decided not to correct her grammar, because it was easy enough to understand. Besides, if she didn't speak it well, it might just get her sore at him. "I get that, alright. I see what you mean. But your name's really Lakita, right?"

"Of course. And you are really Scar?"

"Yes."

"Good. I can trust... and thank you, for saving me."

"You've already thanked me enough times, Lakita."

"It will never be enough, Scar. You saved my life, and I am thoroughly in debt to you. Where must I begin...?" She suddenly seemed to notice the many severe burns across his body, most of which were visible only because the fire had torched right through his clothes. "Oh my... perhaps I might start with that."

She slid over closer to him, and put her gloved hand on an exposed part of his arm, where there was a very nasty-looking burn. "How terrible," she murmured as she looked the rest of him over. "Some of these have already start to blister... some already have." She met his eyes. "May I? You feel better, I promise."

He nodded. "Yes, go ahead."

"Very well." Her glove was surrounded by that azure light again and he watched in amazement, while her eyes never left his. "This is probably going to hurt a little."

"Thanks for giving me fair warning..."

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><p>He'd given up staring at her, and instead was now actually talking to her. A foreign concept to most men nowadays, Kimblee was one of the few who realized that conversation was an art form, just as much as was painting, or sculpting, or pyrotechnics. One had to be careful in choosing topics, so as not to offend their companion. They also had to make sure that whatever topic they chose, that they knew enough about it to be interesting. If someone was boring and didn't know much about a topic, who would want to continue a conversation with them?<p>

He was currently lying down on the bench. It was actually a fair bit more comfortable than sitting. "So would you happen to have read Dante Alighieri's _Divine Comedy_?" he commented.

"Oh, there's some food for thought. My favorite piece in the collection was _Purgatorio_."

"Ah, that was definitely a fascinating part of it. Dante had a way with envisioning such things. Now me, I personally enjoyed _Inferno_. Poor souls down there, hmm?"

"Ah yes, that _was_ an interesting section. What awful punishments were handed out! It's really a great work of literature, if a bit hard to understand at first."

"Yes, yes, Dante was truly a master of the written word, wasn't he?"

"I'll say." He noticed her stance falter slightly, and her hand groped the wall as if looking to steady herself. "Hey, love... you recognize how neither of us mentioned _Paradiso_?"

Kimblee shrugged, tossing his hat up and down. "I found that part rather dull, actually. Quite anti-climatic, if you ask me. It's far more amusing to see sinners suffering the karma of their sins in the pits of hell and purgatory."

"You know, if _you're_ not headed to hell, love, you're at least going to purgatory for a long, _long_ time."

"Oh, I know. I'll pay for my sins, as long as I get to have fun with them now. That's one of the messages in that _Pinocchio_ story, isn't it?"

"You've got it backwards. It's that you _must_ pay for your sins. It's a punishment, that if you sin you're damned."

He twirled his hat on his finger, watching it spin round and round. "Then I suppose you, self-righteous as you are, believe you're going to heaven?"

"I never said that. You don't know me, Kimblee." She let go of the wall. "Even though I can't kill with my powers, you have no idea what kinds of things I've done in my younger days. I do believe I'll see you in hell."

"Hmmph. Spunky and mysterious all at the same time, Ms. Benoit."

"Do you _want_ this conversation to be over, dead, and buried?"

He put down his hat, and thought about that. No matter if he said yes or no, he'd be a liar. "I don't know, is that what _you_ want?"

"Heeeeeeey, Mari, baby!"

Kimblee immediately scrambled up and hurried over to the glass, leaving his hat behind. He saw two men - other military members. One was blonde, the other had auburn hair. The auburn-haired one was just kind of... there. The blonde, however, had a cigarette in his mouth and was looking at Mari in a way that Kimblee decided he _really_ didn't like.

Mari rolled her eyes at the two. "Havoc, shouldn't you and Breda be upstairs running errands for Scheska or kissing Colonel Mustang's ass?" She addressed the blonde, who'd been the one to call her "baby".

Said blonde, whose name was apparently Havoc, took a drag of his cigarette and then blew the smoke out, directly at Mari. "Ah, first of all, haven't I told you before? _You_ get to call me Jean."

Mari squeezed one eyes shut, then waved the smoke away, giving Havoc a rough glare. "If that's first of all, I'm not particularly looking forward to hearing what's second."

"_Second_," Havoc continued, "I was wondering if you had given any more thought to the proposition I offered earlier."

"You mean the one where I come over to your house for dinner and wine?" Mari crossed her arms. "Yes, I've given it some thought. And the answer is _still_ no."

"Ah c'mon, why?"

"Because," she replied curtly. "I have the feeling you've got more in mind than I have."

"What a hurtful accusation, my Mari," Havoc pouted, pretending to cry.

"Well, she's not wrong," Breda pointed out.

"I guess you got me there," Havoc agreed.

Kimblee pounded a fist against the glass once. "Hey! Havoc! Leave the woman alone and get back to your job. It's pigs like you that make me want to blow everyone up."

Havoc raised both eyebrows and snorted. "Well well, Mari, first day on the job and you've already got the prisoner trained to defend you. I must admit that's quite impressive, and how adorable on his part."

"That's _it_," Kimblee hissed, venom lacing his voice. "When I get out of here, the first thing I'm going to do is blow you to fucking _smithereens_. You'll be lucky if they find a _fourth_ of you, and they'll need a tenth-level alchemical tracking device just to find _that_ much. The lady said no, get over it and move on with your pathetic life."

"Kimblee, back off," Mari spoke up, tapping the glass where his forehead was. He wondered what for, since he couldn't even feel the heat from her finger. "I'm a big girl, I even buckle my own boots, braid my own hair, and everything. I can handle this."

"Oh really?" Havoc taunted, sauntering closer to her with a grin. "I seem to remember that your powers can't _kill_. The most you can do is grip someone's arm too hard!"

"That doesn't mean I don't still have a military-issued gun." She reached for said gun, which was strapped to her hip. "Now get the hell out and stop harassing my prisoner."

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><p><strong>Ishvalan Translations:<strong>

**Eta-sae banna? = Are you okay?/good?/alright?**

**Mea an mora asi = I have pain here/It hurts here (Lakita's using the second one)**

**Asi, mee ettra adran sae = Here, I'll help you**

**Niyu = No**

**Recara? = See?/You see? (Lakita's using the first)  
><strong>

**Alchema = Alchemy**

**Es etu alkahestra = It's alkahestry**

**Sae eta alkaheste? = You're an alkahestrist? (_Alkahest_ is the male version)**

**Mea casa rihar suma blesa = I can heal any wound/injury**

**Aya, suma rureh adai = Yes, any illness/sickness as well**

**Sile = Well**

**Mata suma-cit = Almost anything**

**Asu etu sum-cit sae sas casa rihara? = There's something you can't heal?**

**Lifari spirati = Human souls (_spirat_ is singular)**

**HAHAHA. Lakita can speak Amestrian too. XD Wow how lame of me to restate it when she tells Scar already... *hides in a corner***

**And OOH HOO HOO. Mari gettin' dangerous! Havoc's such a perv... XD lol and G'AWWW Kimblee getting all protective of her. Schweet. :D  
><strong>

**I have sort of an idea of where this is going. It's probably not going to stick to the plot very much... maybe it'll stick to the very end of the first anime. *shrug***

**OK, since this is SORT OF a collaboration between me and my friend, he wanted me to add another character and love interest. So next chapter's going to be a little different. I have a feeling it'll make at least Cap'nHoozits happy. XD Anyone care to guess who the next OC's going to fall for? Virtual cookies shaped like Scar's scar if you get it right! XD**

**Thanks for reading! PLEASE REVIEW IF YOU READ! ^^  
><strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**OK first things first - review replies! XD**

**sweetpinkcaramel: Ah! *blush* Thanks so much. I know there are a lot of people who dislike OC's so I appreciate you reading and reviewing. And also saying my characters aren't Mary Sues! I work very hard to avoid that trap... so it means a lot that my hard work pays off. I know, Scar and Lakita are so cute together. And good guesses... but sorry, no! XD This chapter should answer your question though. And you get a consolation prize! *hands a mini figure of Scar* Hmm... well, I guess that's actually better than a cookie... oh well. ^^;**

**Cap'nHoozits: Why hello again good captain! :D I HOPE it makes you happy anyway. LOL. Ha, I loved that line too. I love writing Kimblee as similar to Deidara from Naruto (if you know what that is XD), because they both consider their explosions beautiful. Deidara calls his art, and since Kimblee's such a refined gentleman I imagine him basically thinking the same thing. Mwahaha.**

**WELL. Guys, this chapter is a little different. It's not going to have Scar, Lakita, Kimblee, or Mari in it. Not this time, I mean. Next chapter will. But this was an introduction to the new OC and her love interest soooo... yah. Sorry, I got carried away with the details and the explaining and the cuteness and ah... AGH you know what I'm-a talkin' about! *giggle***

**Hope you enjoy!**

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><p>He knew he really shouldn't trust her so easily; but Miles had known this woman for a year and a half, and she'd done nothing to gain his distrust.<p>

When she'd first transferred here from the Central City base, of course he was wary of her. It was understandable; she'd shown up toting a scalpel, needle, and stitch thread, asking which of them she was cutting into. After an emergency meeting with General Armstrong in which both the woman and Miles himself were present, they figured out it was a complete misunderstanding. The woman, whose name was Rachel Boleare, was actually an alchemic surgeon and had come here expecting her first patient, as she'd been informed of such. They did find her patient eventually, who had been a young man in Miles's unit in need of an appendectomy; the surgery went without a problem, he'd been told.

He started to trust her a little about six months into her transfer. She was quick and clean with her patients, who were mostly civilians. Her ability to manipulate wind, which she transformed into a version of alkahestry by channeling it through others' bodies, was useful for most minor procedures and exploratory surgeries, as well as _some_ major ones. She could move through her patient's body with both precision and speed, though she was sometimes slow at sewing them closed afterwards.

Some major surgeries didn't go so well no matter how determined she was. Miles distinctly remembered one occasion where Rachel had come to him after attempting to perform a digestive surgery - a "rewiring", so to speak, of the patient's GI tract. She had come marching into his office, a somber look on her face. She sat down in the chair across from him, met his red eyes with her blue ones, and then declared, "I have failed, Miles" in this awful dark voice, before hanging her head in what looked to Miles as shame.

Somehow he had managed to make her feel better, but she had thought he'd berate her. She hadn't made the patient any worse; she just hadn't fixed the problem. He assured her that most surgeons, whether they used alkahestry or not, went through cases they couldn't solve every once in a while. She didn't quite like the fact that she wouldn't succeed with every surgery, but after a while she learned to accept it.

Eventually (meaning after about a year) Miles worked up the nerve to allow her to operate on him. He'd needed a tonsillectomy, and could have easily picked anyone to perform the procedure - the Surgeon General, even, who was higher up in command. But he'd chosen Rachel, having trust in her. She was a certified surgeon, after all; what could possibly go wrong with a simple, routine tonsillectomy?

Her assistant anesthesiologist put him under, and he'd woken up a short time later. The only things that were in any discomfort were his hand (where they'd stuck the IV in) and his throat; but for a tonsillectomy that was to be expected. Rachel came in moments later, bearing a bowl of strawberry ice cream (he still couldn't figure out how she knew that was his favorite), to tell him that it had gone smoothly.

So yes, he placed a lot of trust in this woman. But blind trust it was not; she'd earned it.

The door nearly slammed open, and the wind blew a frazzled Rachel right into Miles's office. Her long blonde hair was windswept, some of it spilling into her mouth; her glasses were crooked over her sapphire blue eyes, hanging off one ear. She was clutching several books to her chest, and her unzipped parka practically hung off her lithe frame. "G-G-Good morning, M-M-M-Miles," she stammered, stiffly placing the books on a chair. "S-Sorry I'm l-l-late, s-s-s-sir!"

Miles had to chuckle at her. "Relax, Rachel. It's only been five minutes, you're fine."

"I'm s-still s-s-sorry." She rubbed her arms before peeling off her coat, shaking the snow off it, and hanging it up. "Ooooh, nice and w-warm in here."

"I presume there's yet another blizzard raging out there, Rachel?" he commented, closing a folder of paperwork and moving on to the next.

"Oh _no_, Miles," she announced sarcastically. "There's no blizzard out there. That's why I'm covered head to toe in the business end of a snowman."

They both had a good laugh at that, and Miles opened the newest folder of papers. "There's my little trooper's sense of humor. Why were you out there? Didn't you go to your quarters last night?"

"Oh, I dashed out this morning to grab something from the store... I looked here and we didn't have what I needed!"

"I see. Now, Rachel... it wouldn't happen to be _you_ who stirred up this snowstorm in hopes of playing hooky, would it?"

"Oh _no_, sir!" She took her books and fixed her glasses before tossing her hair and blowing her bangs up. "I'm looking forward to doing five-plus two-hour surgeries."

"I thought you loved helping people as as surgeon," he pointed out. "Isn't that why they codenamed you the Stitched-On Alchemist?"

She sighed. "Yup. It just gets tedious sometimes, doing the same surgeries over and over. I have to learn some new techniques so I don't screw up all the major ones."

Miles nodded in understanding. Rachel was someone who needed to be challenged to keep her skills from going dull. "Ah Rachel, before you head off, I was wondering... where did your snow goggles go, dear?"

Pink splashed her cheeks and she quickly looked away from his gaze. "Ah... you haven't seen my dorm, have you, Miles?"

He groaned inwardly. "Something tells me I don't ever want to."

"Darn right you are, that's why you're second-in-command to General Armstrong!" She peeked over his desk, her mouth drawing down into a curious pout. "Any assignments for me?"

"Other than your surgeries? No. Go get some coffee and get to work, Rachel."

"Right. I'll see you after lunch - Paige is running out for it today." She clapped around her books, grinning. "I get seafood!"

"Have a good morning, Rachel."

"Thanks, you too!"

As she left, Miles's attention was drawn to her stomach. Rachel had always been tall but thin - overly thin and what some would consider underweight for her age of twenty-four. But he noticed now that it looked like she may be putting on some weight; a few pounds, at least. He smiled; it was good to know she was following his advice and taking better care of herself.

* * *

><p>Miles had just finished eating his own lunch when all of a sudden a young man named Robert came rushing into the room. He was pulling Rachel along by the arm, and she was carrying a trash can. Her hair had been tied loosely back, and she looked decidedly green. "M-Miles, sir!" Robert called, helping Rachel sit down in a seat. "We need one of the doctors. There's something wrong with Rach."<p>

Concerned, Miles got to his feet, stepping around his desk to look at her. "What happened? Why does she have a wastebasket?"

"She already threw up twice." Robert bit his lip, daring to rub Rachel's back quickly. "I was afraid it'd happen again on the way here. She must have the flu or something."

Miles knelt down in front of Rachel, taking in her appearance. Golden bangs were pasted to her forehead with perspiration, and she was pale. He noticed her hands were also shaking as she struggled to keep a grip on the trash can. "Yeah... that must be it." He nodded to Robert. "Back to your post, soldier! I'll take care of her."

Robert saluted. "Yes sir! I hope you feel better soon, Rach," he added, before clicking his heels and heading back to his duties.

Miles reached over and slid a bare hand under Rachel's bangs to feel her forehead. "You're not warm..."

"It was p-probably just some b-bad shrimp," she coughed, trying to catch her breath. "I-I'm fine, Miles. Really."

"Rachel, not even you can be sure that it wasn't caused by sickness. We can't take chances like that - if there's even a small risk you're going to infect anyone else, you have to go home." He drew his hand away, and stood up. "I'll take you home myself, you can't walk in that storm alone with how sick you are."

"I'm not sick," she insisted, even as Miles was pulling her toward the hooks. "It's food poisoning, I'll bounce back quick as..."

"Food poisoning takes at least a day to recover from, Rachel, if you're sure that's what this is." He draped her parka around her, zipping it up to her neck. "You're not doing yourself any favors either, running yourself ragged in this state."

"But my patients..." she huffed, as Miles led her down the hall to her barracks.

"I'll reschedule all the remaining appointments." He drew her close to him with one arm, to keep her from getting too cold, as somehow it had leaked into the base. "Rachel, I will take care of everything. All I want you to do is rest. Come back tomorrow if you feel better, but rest."

He felt her head fall against his chest. "Miles... oh... Miles..."

He nodded, though she definitely couldn't see it. "Yes, Rachel. Just rest... that's it."

... Wait... had she actually fallen asleep?

**LOL, ditzy Rachel.**

**No translations this chap, though...**

**AND OH. There is a reason for Rachel being sick, and it'll be explained next chapter. My friend made most of her stats up for me, and he added in something I didn't expect. I wonder if you guys expect it...?**

***insert evil laughter and lightning flashing in background***

**Envy:*from the other room* Shut up, you brat! I'm trying to sleep! You want me to be your muse or not?**

**Me: I'm not even writing about you right now so bugger off, bitch! AND GOOD MOTHER*censored* NIGHT!**

**... Read and review please! Reviews are my food source... so isn't that awesome that you're feeding meh?**

**Much loves! ^^  
><strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for the long wait! I had the rest of it written down for AGES but never got around to typing it up. But here you go! Hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

><p>"There we are going," Lakita announced proudly, lifting her hand off of Scar's back, where the last of the burns had been. She grinned, moving back to sit beside him again. "How you feel now, Scar?"<p>

He traced over his palm with one finger, not quite believing that the wounds could be gone just like that. "Better, I suppose... it's really amazing what alkahestry can do."

"It is indeed," Lakita agreed with a nod. "I'm very privileged to be able to practice it. Thank you, for allowing me to heal you."

"Thank _you_ for actually doing it. I'd still be in a lot of pain, and would be for a while, if not for you, Lakita."

She smiled, then reached over and traced along one of the tattoos on his arm; she'd obviously noticed them before. "_These_ are very beautiful, much more beautiful than my transmutation circle. They are symbols of alchemy, correct?"

"Yes."

"So then why did you act so..." She rubbed her own arm. "Disgusted earlier, when you thought I was using alchemy? I mean, if you are practicing it..."

He sighed. "Lakita... it's a bit difficult to explain. The short explanation is that I'm a complicated person. The longer explanation... would just bore you."

She nodded in what seemed to be understanding, scooting a fair bit away to give him some space. "_Warase_. I can grasp not wanting to speak of some things."

"I appreciate it, Lakita. If there is ever anything you wish for me not to press, please let me know."

She nodded, then pushed herself into a standing position. "Well, I do not think we may stay here for long. We are sitting chickens for the military."

Scar shook his head, smiling mentally at her mix-up. "The expression is 'sitting ducks'."

"Oh... that makes no sense." She dusted her jeans off. "Well... the Amestris, they just did this to confuse us!" She reached over and carefully peeled the jacket off him. "This thing is useless now - full of holes and looking like it has been dragged through the fires of hell." She tossed it on the doorstep, taking a small jump off it. "Come, we go to my house, find new clothes. I'm not sure if I have any male things but..."

"You live here? In Amestris?" He blinked several times at this new revelation as he followed her. "You actually own a house?"

"Eh-heh, well..." He saw her rub the back of her head. "I wouldn't really say 'own'..."

"So you're renting it then?"

"Something like that." She shrugged, idly pulling her hair back into a ponytail though she didn't tie it. "I don't think it's a big deal I live there, unless someone decides to be selfish and make it so. As long as I keep to myself, I'm not minded."

Something clicked in his brain, and he stopped where he was as he realized what she meant. "Lakita... nobody knows that you're living there, do they? You sneak in and pay nothing. Is that what you're saying?"

She waved her hand dismissively. "Scar, the place was scheduled for demolition anyway - then it rained and they never picked another date. Why let it go to waste if no one else takes advantage of it?"

"Lakita, I'm not sure I like that idea. Are you really a thief for a living, or is it just this one thing?"

"Scar, really, people are starting to stare." She grabbed his hand and began to drag him through the streets, like he was a child. "You cannot honestly tell me you have not stolen anything before - necessities, at least!"

"Yes, Lakita... but _only_ necessities. Food, water, things like that. You've basically stolen a house."

"Scar, is shelter not a necessity?" She pulled him along faster, avoiding everyone on the roads. "Come on, we are almost there."

* * *

><p>Once Havoc and Breda left, Kimblee saw Mari ease up, dropping the hand that had been headed for her gun. She leaned against the glass. "If he wants a date, he ought to ask Scheska out. She's actually <em>looking<em> for a boyfriend."

"You're not?" Kimblee spoke up. "Why, you already dating someone?"

"I'm not obliged to tell you that."

Kimblee scowled. Havoc broke his toy! "C'mon, Ms. Benoit. We were just having a friendly, sophisticated conversation. We were even discussing Italian literature! Nobody's ever agreed to that before, most people think it's torture. Why let Havoc ruin all our fun? We were almost halfway to enjoying each other's company."

"You're not getting out, Kimblee, so what does it matter?"

"Well, this job would be a lot less awkward for both of us - and I mean a _lot less_ - if we didn't want to rip each other's throats out."

She sighed. "Kimblee, get the hell over it, will you? I'm your guard, not your friend!"

"You _could_ be both. There's no rule what states we can't be civil towards each other."

Mari blew out another sigh and sunk down to sit on the floor. "I hate this damn military sometimes."

Sensing her anger winding down and her outburst over, Kimblee got to his knees and looked out at her. She really was upset. "Ms. Benoit, I know I'm probably the last person you would pick, but... why don't you confide in me? It usually helps to tell someone else how you're feeling, even if that person is someone you really want to pump full of bullets at the moment."

She brushed her bangs back and looked over at him for half a second. "I always get the most idiotic jobs. Paperwork, bathroom duty, cleaning out offices, _doing fucking laundry_... and now this. I've never seen the heat of a battlefield, nor felt blood on my skin unless it was my own. No one thinks I can do anything."

Kimblee nodded. Of course he didn't know how _that_ felt, but he was trying to comfort her. "To be fair, you can't do much for combat. But," he added quickly, reminding himself that a woman's feelings must be treated delicately, "that doesn't mean you offer nothing. You provide a beautiful face and scintillating conversation."

"Stop trying to make me feel better, Kimblee," Mari huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Your conversation skills are better than mine, and you're a hell of a lot more attractive than I am."

"Oh, come now."

"Really! I mean, do you think every guy in the office flirts with me because I'm hot? No! They all just think I'm easy, which I most certainly am _not_."

"I bet that's not the only reason, Ms. Benoit."

She scooted around to face him and her blue eyes bore into his gold ones. She placed her hand against the glass where his cheek was. "Love, I will _always_ hate the dumbasses I work for. I despise the military, and I despise the fact that I'm a part of it. I always have, I always will. I'll always find some excuse to gripe, something to complain about. So don't try to change me, and I sure as hell won't try to change you. Alright, love?"

Kimblee mirrored her action and raised a hand to caress her face, only to be met by cold, disregarding glass. "Alright, fine. But Ms. Benoit... Mari. Just because I'm agreeing... that doesn't mean everything I've said isn't true. I happen to find you very pretty _and_ intelligent, even if everyone else just thinks you're an easy airhead."

* * *

><p>Miles was passing by the offices after settling Rachel back into her dorm. She'd gone into her bedroom and when he'd heard her retching again, he'd decided that was an appropriate time to give her some privacy. So he'd left.<p>

As he was walking, he very nearly bumped into Robert, who was carrying something. "Ah! Sorry about that, soldier."

They saluted each other, and Robert fell into step with Miles. "How's Rach doing? She seem any better?"

Miles shook his head. "Headed straight for the john once I escorted her to the barracks." He eyed the item Robert was holding, which was a plate with shrimp, salad, and cocktail sauce. "Ah, so I see you made Paige go to that place too."

"What?" Robert glanced down at the plate and laughed. "Oh no, Miles, sir. I'm not a fan of seafood. This is Rach's - she didn't get a chance to eat any before she got sick, so I was just gonna throw it away."

Miles cocked an eyebrow. "She didn't eat any? But she told me she was sure that she was sick because of the shrimp. She didn't have a fever - it did seem more like food poisoning than the flu..."

Robert shrugged. "Lots of people don't have a fever when they get the flu. She's probably resistant to it, being a doctor and all - never gets fevers. Well, I better go dump this." He gave Miles a salute as he went the other way. "I'll see you later, sir!"

"Right." Miles scratched his head as he blinked a few times. "Well, something's fishy and I don't think it's that shrimp. Rachel's hiding something from me." He rubbed his chin in thought. "But to fake being sick with no one noticing how she did it...? Hmm..."

"Miles!"

He yelped and turned to his right, suddenly realizing that he was in the medical wing. Paige, the dark-haired radiologist, sonogram technician, gynecologist, and current lunch-fetcher all rolled into one, was peeking out of her research lab, grinning at him. "Oh... Paige. Err... nice day, isn't it?"

"Certainly, sir. Do you know where Rachel went? She's been dodging me all day."

"She's in her dorm. Either flu or food poisoning."

Paige snorted. "'Food poisoning'. How long's she been using that one?" She clicked her tongue. "She was _supposed_ to come see me two weeks ago for another sonogram. She just doesn't want to do it because I never have enough time to heat up the gel. Picky, that one."

Both of Miles's eyebrows raised. "A sonogram? Why would Rachel need a sonogram?"

Paige's eyes darted one way, then the other, then she grabbed Miles's hand tightly. "What I say does not leave this sterile room over my bloody latex gloves," she warned lowly, before yanking him inside aforementioned room and slamming the door.

Once inside, Miles's eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the dimly lit, but not pitch black, atmosphere of the room. Paige had already made a beeline for her computer, and was click-clacking away on her keyboard, about as fast as was humanly possible. He decided to break the rather awkward silence. "Paige, what is all this about?"

"You remember that week-long mission to Central we sent Rachel on about... ah, two months ago I wanna say?" She was still typing away like nobody's business.

"Yes," he answered hesitantly. "We wanted her to exchange research with Dr. Tucker - her former partner before she transferred here."

"Well, she came back not feeling so hot. So she came to me for a sonogram."

"But why didn't she just go to one of the physicians for a work-up?"

"Because she already sorta knew what the problem was - just needed me to confirm it. I'm trying to bring up her sonograms... ah! There. It might be a little hard to see, it isn't that big at the moment." She swiveled to one side to allow miles to see the screen, and circled her finger around the lighter mass in the picture. "You see that little parasite inside her stomach?" She shuddered, tapping the screen. "Terrifying."

Miles's eyes widened as he just stared at the sonogram. "What in the..."

"You see this part, right here? Looks like a little jellybean?" Paige tapped a part of the picture. "Hoo, it's a good thing Rachel didn't want a girl."

"She..." Miles shook his head, not quite believing what he was seeing. "She's _pregnant_? But... how? She's not married, not in a relationship as far as I know..."

Paige blew out a breath. "And to think she was only a mile from Shou's place. If she'd only run, she might not have had to come see me..." She aimed to punch at the wall, her body tensing. "Some pathetic excuse for a man who knocks up a stranger, Miles. Some _pathetic_ excuse for a man."

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><p><strong>DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNN. *cue dramatic music*<strong>

**As you can tell I likes the dramatic music... and just the drama in general. Mwahahahaha!**

**Reviews are LOVE LOVE LOVE. I would hug you forever if you gave me a nice one! Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far, by the way.**

**Oh, and some shameless self-promotion: for anybody who also likes Envy and/or Wrath, I have a bunch of Envy/OC romances also on the site, and then one with Envy and Wrath brotherly cuteness called "I Want a Mom". That's one of the only stories I have without major OC's, so I'd appreciate it if you gave it a review if you like that kind of thing. :D**

**Well... thanks for reading and reviewing guys! Much love! ^^  
><strong>


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